


Brallon One-Shots

by superwholockatthechemicalboy



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Fluff, I need suggestions, M/M, One Shot, One Shot Collection, Short, brallon, idk - Freeform, smut MAYBE
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-24
Updated: 2018-02-10
Packaged: 2018-10-23 10:05:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10717260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/superwholockatthechemicalboy/pseuds/superwholockatthechemicalboy
Summary: Brendon agrees to go with Spencer to a strip club for a fun night out. He wasn't expecting an encounter with a tall stranger in the bathroom.





	1. I wouldn't be caught dead in this place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brendon agrees to go with Spencer to a strip club for a fun night out. He wasn't expecting an encounter with a tall stranger in the bathroom.

"Come on Bren, it'll be fun!" Spencer yelled over the noise as he pushed me though the neon lights and crowds of people, "Haven't you ever been to a strip club before?"

I shook my head numbly at let him drag me through the town. It was busy this time of night, people everywhere enjoying the electric atmosphere that Las Vegas was famous for. We suddenly turned down a dark alley, red light shining off a bar sign and reflecting on a puddle. A man in a cloak stopped us. My mind jumped to us being mugged and i instinctively took a step backwards. Spencer laughed at me quietly.

"Evening Ryan," said Spencer smoothly.

"Evening Spence," said the man in the cloak and reached into his pocket and produced a pair of keys, unlocking a metal door to his left.

I walked through timidly and I was overpowered by what I thought was the smell of hairspray.

"The glycol smoke takes a bit of getting used to," gestured Spencer to the foggy haze at our feet and I figured that that was the cause of the smell.

A woman in a sexy bunny outfit came up to us. She smiled slyly at Spencer, who hooked his arm in hers. As they walked off together he waved at me and mouthed, "Have some fun." But this really wasn't my idea of fun. I felt awkward and I must have looked that way too because none of the lingerie-clad women that walked around were paying any attention to me. A girl with her hair in a pink bob came up to me and gestured to a comfortable-looking couch by the bar. I followed her blindly.

"Hey baby," she said slowly, letting herself sit on my lap, "What can I do for you?"

She began rocking her hips back and forth over my tight black jeans which were beginning to feel even tighter. Instinctively, I lifted my mouth up to kiss her but she backed away.

"I'm not a prostitute you know," she said, looking a bit annoyed.

"I'm sorry," I said quickly, "I've never been to one of these places before."

Her expression softened. She resumed her rocking on my lap.

"Well I'll show you what I can do, and you just sit there and relax okay?" 

I nodded submissively. She slowly lifted off the straps of her black lacy bra and brought them down, before unclipping it at the back. Her breasts were free, inches away from my face. But it didn't feel sexy, I just felt like a pervert. I excused myself quickly and rushed to the bathroom. How could Spencer enjoy this? All I wanted to do was go home. I washed my face with water from the tap and while I was splashing water in my eyes, I didn't see someone else walk into the bathroom. 

"You alright?" asked a soft male voice behind me.

I turned suddenly to see a tall man with blue eyes and dark hair looking at me concernedly. I tried to nod my head and excuse myself but instead tears were pouring down my face. Tears? I didn't ask for tears!

"Break up?" he asked.

"What?" I replied, confusion causing my tears to halt suddenly.

"Did you break up with someone?" he said slowly, with an accent I couldn't quite put my finger on. 

"What, no, why?" 

"I wondered what someone like you would be doing here, crying in a bathroom in a strip club. I figured the only rational explanation is that your girl left you and in revenge you decided to go visit a strip club but then you just realised how much you miss her et cetera et cetera."

"Someone like me?"

"You know, young, handsome, charming," he said unashamedly, "someone who doesn't come here because they're lonely and in need of a pretty lady to make him feel like he's a sex god. You know the type I mean and you're not one of them."

"Well I came with a friend actually," I said, wiping my eyes and smiling crookedly, "He comes here a lot, and said that it was a crime that I was already 25 and had never been to a strip club."

"Funny guy," said the man coldly, and I got the impression he didn't think it was funny at all.

"If you hate strip clubs so much, then why the hell are you here?" I asked, annoyed now at his maddening air of superiority. 

"To save poor lost souls like you I guess," he said coolly.

"I'm not lost and I don't need your help," I said, now infuriated.

"Says the man crying in a bathroom," he shrugged.

"Listen here," I said forcefully, pushing him backwards, "You can't come in here and say this stuff to me. You're just mad because not even the girls selling themselves in a strip club want to talk to you."

"I don't want to talk to them either thank you very much," he said quietly and I knew I'd hit a nerve, "If it really matters that much to you then i'll have you know that I'm gay. Okay? So as much as it would flatter you to let you think you were right, you're not."

"You're fucking gay?" I exclaimed; now I was being rude and I knew it, "So you hide out in bathrooms, hoping to seduce a guy into sucking your dick? That's sick man, and I'm going to talk to the people in charge here and get you kicked out."

I wasn't going to talk to the people in charge and this guy seemed to know it, but my words still packed a punch. He spluttered in protest and I knew I had won. I strode over to the door and flung it open, ready to leave when I heard him speak again.

"It's the music," he said softly.

I turned around. I looked straight into his face and saw tears shimmering in his eyes. He cleared his throat.

"I come here for the music. I sit in the bathroom, pathetic I know, and I listen to the music they play."

I studied his face intently, searching for a sign that he might be lying. But he wasn't - and I knew it. 

"Listen man," I began, struggling to find the right words to apologise, "I don't know what to say,"

"I think 'sorry' is a good place to start." he said.

"Sorry," I mumbled feebly.

"Take me out for coffee sometime," he said slowly, "your shout. You can say sorry properly then"

He half-smiled at me. I wondered how many outbursts he had faced, how many times he'd been attacked for being gay. I'd bet my life I wasn't the first. He had courage, I'd give him that. He reached into his back pocket for his wallet and pulled out a business card. 

"It has my number on it, give me a call some time when you're free." 

He wandered out of the bathroom. I knew he didn't expect me to call. I bet no one ever did. So maybe I would. I looked down at the name on the card. It was a funny name, sounded more like a character out of those detective books that Spencer reads. And as I too made my way out of the bathroom, I said it out loud. It rolled off my tongue satisfyingly,  _Dallon Weekes_. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey I love feedback and feel free to give me suggestions for more! xx


	2. Just for the Attention

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dallon's birthday and he thinks that his boyfriend has forgotten. Basically just smut.

Dallon fumed as he marched through the front door of the small apartment he shared with Brendon. He was sopping wet from the torrential rain outside and he had a ton of work to do over the weekend. He knew he would have to stay up late. He threw off his jacket and began loosening his tie. He could hear the radio faintly playing in the kitchen down the hall. Or was it the TV? Or was it both? Furiously, Dallon stormed into the kitchen where his boyfriend was making some sort of food. He stepped in something wet. That was it.  
"Brendon!" he yelled over the noise blasting from the radio and television.  
"Daldo!" cheered Brendon from the other side of the kitchen bench.  
"Turn these infernal devices off!" shouted Dallon.  
Realising now that he was in trouble, Brendon meekly slouched over to the radio, turned it off, then grabbed the TV remote and did the same thing.  
"Why is the floor wet?" demanded Dallon.  
"Oh, um, not sure," said Brendon.   
"Can't you even cook food without making a complete mess?" asked Dallon, before letting his anger pour out, "I DO NOT WORK NIGHT AND DAY JUST SO THAT YOU CAN LIVE HERE AND MESS AROUND! I WORK MY ASS OFF AT A TINY CUBICLE SURROUNDED BY PEOPLE I HATE JUST TO AFFORD THIS PLACE AS WELL AS WHATEVER YOU CALL YOUR MUSIC CAREER? SOME CAREER - YOU HAVEN'T HAD A GIG IN MONTHS! YOU HAVE THE INDECENCY TO CALL YOURSELF MY BOYFRIEND AND SLEEP IN MY BED BUT YOU DON'T GIVE A SHIT ABOUT ME, DO YOU? YOU DON'T CARE AT ALL. TO YOU, I'M JUST CHEAP ACCOMMODATION! I thought you loved me."

  
With that final thought, Dallon plonked himself down on one of the kitchen stools. Brendon stared at him with wild confusion.  
"Of course I love you," he said slowly, "Why would you ever think otherwise?"  
"You didn't remember my birthday," said Dallon, knowing how childish it sounded but not caring.   
Brendon looked solemnly down at his shoes, hoping that he could keep a straight face but failing miserably.  
"And now you're laughing?" exclaimed Dallon, looking hurt.  
"Of course I remembered you fucking idiot," said Brendon, smiling slightly, the corner of his lip twitching.   
"Then why didn't you say or do anything?" asked Dallon.   
"Well it was going to be a surprise, but you've kinda ruined it," said Brendon, "But that's ok."  
He led Dallon into the dining room, where a fancy meal was set out on table.  
"Wow Brendon..." Dallon trailed off into silence.   


* * *

  
  
  
After dinner Dallon and Brendon settled down on their couch. Dallon ran his fingers through Brendon's soft hair when Brendon jumped up.  
"I haven't given you your present yet!" exclaimed Brendon excitedly.  
"I thought that dinner was my present," said Dallon.  
Brendon raced out of the room and came back panting, a small blue box in his hand.   
"Open it," he said eagerly.  
"Condoms?" asked Dallon, "Really?"  
"Well," said Brendon shyly, "I wanted today to be special, so I thought maybe we could have sex."  
"Really subtle," laughed Dallon, "Are you sure Brendon?"  
"Absolutely."  
He smiled but Dallon could see the nervousness in his eyes. He grabbed his hand and squeezed it.   
"I love you," he whispered reassuringly.

  
But if there was any shyness at all, it disappeared the moment they got into their bedroom. Dallon lunged forward, grabbing Brendon by the waist and pulling him towards him. Their lips crashed onto each other fiercely, a hot wet battle. Dallon pulled off Brendon's shirt over his head and the few seconds where their faces were separated by the material were agony. Dallon stripped himself off with ease but turned to focus his attention on the younger boy. He suddenly pinned Brendon down by the shoulders.  
"Let me do this," he said and Brendon nodded.  
He unbuckled the belt agonisingly slowly. A noticeable bulge was apparent in the front of Brendon's jeans and Dallon pressed the palm of his hand against it. Brendon rocked into it and a small moan escaped his lips.   
"Dal..." he whispered and Dallon shushed him.  
Dallon was already hard and the sight of Brendon under him made him nearly dizzy with lust. He tore off Brendon's jeans and palmed him through his boxers. Brendon lay on the bed gasping and squirming with pleasure. Dallon pulled off his boxers and ran his hand over Brendon's hard-on, pre-cum leaking from the tip. He started a slow rhythm, pumping slowly, between kisses to his neck. Brendon suddenly moaned very loudly.   
"Dal... oh Dal... Dal stop..."  
Dallon looked up at him concernedly for a second but didn't stop.   
"I'm so close Dallon, oh god."  
Dallon suddenly drew his hand away quickly and sat up.  
"You still ok with this Bren?" he asked quickly.

  
Brendon nodded. Dallon reached into his bedroom drawer for some lube and then fished out a condom from the packet. Brendon whined needily. Dallon slicked up one finger and pressed it to Brendon's perineum. He slid it slowly into his hole and pressed it in and pulled it out slowly, stretching the hole.   
"Can I add another finger?" he asked and Brendon nodded quickly.  
Two fingers in and Brendon felt uncomfortable. Even slicked up with lube, Dallon's fingers were tight and slightly painful. But Dallon suddenly curled his fingers slightly.   
"Fuck" yelled Brendon.   
It was hurting but a sudden spasm of pleasure had shot through him at the sudden change in touch.   
"Fucking do that again Dallon fuck yes please god"   
Dallon curled the tips of his fingers again and Brendon's words became incoherent babbling. Dallon suddenly retracted his fingers and Brendon gasped at the change.   
  


Dallon pressed the tip of his penis to Brendon's entrance. He pushed himself in, allowing himself to enter about halfway. Tears were sliding down Brendon's face as the pain took hold. He felt stretched and bruised and wanted to stop. Nothing could be worth this torture. But when Dallon asked if he wanted to keep going he nodded. Dallon slid himself in fully and moaned softly in pleasure at the effect Brendon's tightness was having on him. He began thrusting into Brendon, maintaining a slow rhythm. Brendon cried out a little in pain but endured it for he knew how happy he was making his boyfriend. Then Dallon thrust hard, hitting Brendon's prostate. The same incredible feeling of before shot through Brendon.  
  


"Again Dal... fuck" whispered Brendon.  
Dallon reached it again, enjoying the way Brendon lost control for a few seconds. He could feel his climax building up, and wanted nothing more than to just let go. In that moment, he could have sworn that he and Brendon were the only two people in the world. He picked up speed and felt Brendon falling to pieces beneath him.   
  


He enveloped Brendon's cock in his fist and began jerking it slowly, then faster to match his own rhythm. Brendon's hips jerked upwards suddenly and Dallon almost laughed at the reaction of the younger boy, pleased that he was getting as much out of the experience. Brendon moaned loudly, murmuring incoherent praise under his breath. Dallon could feel himself hitting orgasm and started pumping Brendon's dick hard and fast, so they could climax together. He was beginning to feel dizzy from holding off and Brendon noticed how close he was. All Brendon needed to see was Dallon losing it.  
"Bren, I'm gonna..."  
Dallon threw his head back as his orgasm washed over him. He pulled himself out slowly, but maintained the almost frantic rhythm of jerking Brendon. Brendon's back arched and his hips snapped upwards again as he came. Dallon kissed him forcefully as Brendon's come covered his hand and stomach.   
  
They both fell back onto the bed, neither envying the job of cleaning up tomorrow. Dallon got up to throw away the used condom but rejoined Brendon as they basked in the post-coital bliss that followed.   
"Happy Birthday" whispered Brendon as they fell asleep in each others' arms.


	3. A coast that's unclear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dallon, a celebrity publicist, gets trapped in a department store overnight. He meets an annoying employee with unmistakeable charm.

The lights shutting off grabbed my attention. I weaved my way out of the racks of clothes to the aisle. A slight movement in the distance caught my eye. I looked around for the source. The intense  _clatter-clatter_ of a roller door closing startled me. I made my way to the exit; determined to let the people closing down know that I needed to get out. But upon reaching the door, I saw no one. I tried to lift the heavy door off the ground, but it was bolted from the outside. I scanned around me for an alternative exit. My wife was probably wondering where I was. Whipping out my phone to call her, I heard a voice from across the store. I quickly shoved my phone back in my pocket and jogged over. I spied a boy, no older than 20, standing in the home-wares section. He was wearing the store's name tag on his chest. Finally, I can get out of here. 

He spotted me as I turned the corner to where he was. My own joy at finding another human being was equally reflected on his face.  
"Does your phone work?" he asked immediately.  
"Uh yeah, nice to meet you too," I said sarcastically, "can you open the door so I can get out?"  
"Afraid not," he said, almost cheerfully.  
What was wrong with this guy? He was sort of jittery - probably lived off energy drinks or whatever it is that young people eat.  
"Why?" I demanded.  
"It's my first shift," he shrugged, "When I was locking up, I left my keys outside. Can I borrow your phone to call my manager?"  
Reluctantly, I handed over my phone. He gave it back about half a minute later. Great. No signal. I can't even call my wife and let her know that I'm here. 

I stared around me, taking in every aspect of the place that would be my prison cell for the night. The employee, however, seemed nonplussed. He marched over to the confectionery wall. I watched him pull off bags of marshmallows and toffees for a full minute. If he's planning on eating them, he's got to pay for them right? He threw me a pack of red frogs which I threw back. He wasn't offended. There was something seriously wrong with this guy.

I watched him consume eight bags of lollies. Surely he was feeling sick. The sugary smell made me both nauseous and ravenous. Deciding I'd rather face the repercussions than starve overnight, I grabbed a nearby packet of chips. The intense, salty, oily flavour was amazing. Oh, how long had it been since I'd last eaten. I checked my watch. No way have we only been in here for an hour! At least four had passed, I'm certain. How was I ever going to make it through the night? Yet even more unfortunate, the weird employee was trying to make small talk. 

Boy, could he talk! After realising I wasn't going to say much, he embarked on a quest to tell me every detail of his life up until this date. I learnt his name was Brendon, that he had a dog called Spencer and that he was working to save enough money to buy a guitar. He was one of  _those_ guys who really thought they could make it big if they tried hard enough. He told me about all his siblings, how he played Peter Pan in his school's musical production and how he was scared of clowns. In his defense, he was an interesting person. 

I guess he got tired of talking because he got up and dragged me over to the store's electronic section. Somewhat numbly, I followed him. We trekked through thousands of screens before stopping at a massive 75 inch television. He disappeared briefly, before returning, holding a copy of Finding Nemo like a trophy above his head. He looked absolutely idiotic. Yet the winner's grin on his face made me smile too. He slid it into the DVD slot and the whole place was flooded with blue light as every screen lit up at once. It was spectacular. 

After the movie was finished, we decided to set up in the manchester section for the night. I took a king-size with a dark blue duvet and Brendon took a double bed with black and white stripes. A slight worry was in the back of my mind for how my wife was doing. I pushed it away. Worrying wouldn't help now. My eyelids were getting heavy. Sleep washed over me. 

A heated red light burned through my eyelids. I hastily sat up and looked around me. The lights were back on but the store wasn't open yet. My watch told me it was still nighttime. Groggily, I walked over to Brendon and shook him. He snapped to attention. Quietly, we snuck through the labyrinth of the store. Then we saw it. The open fire exit. Only one thing stood in our way; the cleaning crew who had just entered. In a sudden stroke of brilliance, I pulled a box off a nearby shelf and threw it as far to my left as I could. The  _crash_ of it hitting the ground drew their attention, as they swarmed towards the source of the noise. Our path was open. We bolted through the door. Freedom!

Our goodbye was brief. I had to get to my wife and let her know I was okay. I pulled out a business card and gave it to Brendon.  
"I'm a publicist," I said, "for when you make it big."  
He smiled with his whole face, every feature illuminating.  
"Take care mate," he said.  
I turned and walked away. Away from Brendon, away from the store, away from an unforgettable couple of hours.


End file.
